


Unexpected Visits in the Wintertime

by xylodemon



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: First Kiss, Humor, M/M, MWPP Era, Podfic Available
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-14
Updated: 2012-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-29 12:08:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/319739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xylodemon/pseuds/xylodemon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Remus is confused, the Knight Bus isn't as reliable as advertised, and Mrs Lupin wishes Sirius would leave her hydrangeas alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unexpected Visits in the Wintertime

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://dustmouth.livejournal.com/profile)[**dustmouth**](http://dustmouth.livejournal.com/) and [](http://rs_small_gifts.livejournal.com/profile)[**rs_small_gifts**](http://rs_small_gifts.livejournal.com/) 2011\. Podfic by [](http://archiveofourown.org/users/adistantsun/profile)[**adistantsun**](http://archiveofourown.org/users/adistantsun/pseuds/adistantsun) available [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/580051).

Sirius sits up as the Knight Bus rattles to a clumsy stop, swinging his legs over the side of the four-poster he's using as a seat. It's a little bit musty, and it has enough lumps that Sirius' neck feels stiff and sore, but he'd been lucky to find a place at all when he boarded in London; the bus had been absolutely rammed, and Sirius had shared this bed with an elderly bloke who'd smelt of cabbage and snored like a Graphorn all the way to Manchester. He's the only passenger left now, except for a fairly warty hag who's kipping right in the centre aisle, her overcoat folded under her head and her furry winter hat pulled down over her eyes at a jaunty angle.

"Oi, Black," the conductor says, eyeing Sirius expectantly. Sirius didn't really catch the fellow's name, but he thinks he remembers him from school -- two or three years older, one of those Hufflepuffs who was more than half Squib, and only made it through his seventh year because he could play Quidditch without falling off his broom. "You awake then, Black?"

"Yeah, I'm awake," Sirius grumbles, yawning and rubbing his eyes as he frowns out the window. He can't see very much, just a sliver of moon, a handful of snow-frosted trees, and a dark twist of shadow he supposes is the road. "Why are we stopped? Does this heap need another Petrol Charm?"

"Didja hear that, Ernie?" the conductor asks with a snort. He chuckles under his breath and elbows the driver, a hunched and wizened creature with downy, white hair curling around his peaked cap and an honest-to-God handlebar moustache dropping over his upper lip. "Wants to know why we're stopped, he does. Bless."

"I heard him, Max," Ernie replies, using his sleeve to wipe at the sort of red nose that suggests he likes a little tea in his Firewhisky. "Go on, then. Tell him. I'd like to get back to the Cauldron afore it closes."

"Right." Sirius tries to stand, but his complimentary blanket has snaked itself around his ankles; he stumbles into the bed directly across the aisle, cursing when his hip bangs off one of the posters. "Tell me."

Max smiles widely, showing Sirius most of his missing teeth, and jerks his thumb toward the door. "We're stopped 'cause you're getting off."

"Here?"

"Yeah, here."

Sirius glances out the window again, but nothing important has bloody well changed -- the same trees are still huddled in the shadows, their branches heavy with the morning's snowfall; the tiny rind of moon has now drifted behind a cloud.

"I don't think so," Sirius says finally, shaking his head, but Max just hefts Sirius' rucksack and makes another sharp gesture at the door. "I wanted John and Mabel Lupin's place. It's a farm, like. Out by the old -- "

"Yeah, we know where it is," Max interrupts shortly, examining a set of fingernails that are probably both dirty and in sore need of cutting. "Middle of buggerall Muggle nowhere, that ruddy place is."

"And?" Sirius demands.

" _And_ , we ain't going that far north tonight, Black. We ain't the bloody Hogwarts Express." Max elbows Ernie again and the door opens with a soft hiss; Sirius shivers with a sudden burst of cold air. "It's Tuesday. We've a shorter route on the weekdays, and it's half midnight besides."

"All right, all right."

Sirius kicks the blanket away -- back toward the hag, who has flopped onto her side and is now snoring uproariously and directly into her winter hat -- and trudges over to the door, shouldering past Max as he heads down the bus steps. It's bloody freezing outside, the wind clawing at Sirius' skin like long, icy fingers, and what little bit of moon there is has all but disappeared. Sirius roundly curses several things under his breath -- Max and Ernie and their shortened weekday routes; James Potter and his infatuation with Lily ruddy Evans; the werewolf who bit Remus in the first place, because his parents wouldn't live in the middle of buggerall Muggle nowhere if not for Remus' furry little problem -- and casts a Heating Charm so violent that the snow around his feet quickly melts into a thick puddle of slush and mud.

"You got a broom, then?" Max asks, following Sirius as far as the bottom step.

"Yeah," Sirius lies. His broom is actually back in his bedroom at the Potters', but he figures if he doesn't admit that he forgot it _out loud_ , he won't have to waste time and energy being angry about it. "I've got a broom."

"You'll do fine." Max leans his hip against the folded bus door and points at something beyond Sirius' shoulder. "Jess head over that hill. Six or seven miles, and you'll run right into it."

Sirius squints in that general direction, but he rather doesn't find anything worth mentioning. "I don't see a hill."

"Bless. Of course you don't," Max counters, in a tone that suggests he's questioning Sirius' intelligence. "It's bloody dark out, innit?"

"Right."

The Knight Bus disappears with a sharp crack and Sirius is alone.

Sirius counts to a hundred, then starts silently listing the ingredients in a Shrinking Solution, but he loses track of things after the sliced caterpillars and gives it up as a bad job. Potions are fiddly and ridiculous anyway, and reciting the recipes to pass the time is an obnoxious habit he picked up from Remus. He counts to a hundred again -- long enough that his Heating Charm has waned and his fingers and toes are starting to go numb -- and decides that Max and Ernie are gone for good.

He shifts into Padfoot, catches the strap of his rucksack in his mouth, and takes the hill he still can't quite see at a dead run.

 

\--

 

Sirius frowns at the shadowed, slanted silhouette of Remus' house and shakes the handful of pebbles clenched in his fist.

He isn't sure what time it is, aside from a vague and somewhat worrying idea that it's actually so late it's almost early. He's colder than he was when he first got off the Knight Bus, and it has started to snow again, soft and sparse but just enough to be troublesome. Remus' house looks small and hollow and very, very dark; there are no lights behind the crooked shutters, and the lanterns under the sagging porch roof are empty and black.

Sirius sighs heavily at throws the pebbles at Remus' window. They clatter against the frozen pane like hail, and Sirius waits for what feels like an hour, but nothing happens -- no lights, no voices, no anything.

He's not really surprised, because this entire trip has been a disaster so far. He probably should've started out earlier, but his uncle keeps odd hours, and it had never occurred to him that the Knight Bus would move so slowly; it had stopped at every intersection and bloody point of interest in Wizarding London, and never mind the tailback in Manchester, or the Petrol Charm in Islington that had taken thirty minutes.

Of course, he hadn't figured on the Knight Bus leaving him stranded in a bloody sheep field in the middle of the night, either.

"Moony?" Sirius asks, his voice cracking on the chilly air.

He doesn't get a reply, but he wasn't really expecting one. Sighing again, he shifts back into Padfoot, and noses behind a tall, brambly bush growing up along the wall under Remus' window. It isn't exactly warm, but he's cut off from the wind and snow, and he's learned from experience that Padfoot can sleep pretty much anywhere.

\--

 

"Merlin's beard! Sirius Black, is that you?"

Grunting, Sirius rolls over in the sliver of space between the bushes and the house and rubs a grimy hand over his face; his head feels slow and packed with wool, and a dull ache is carefully working its way up his spine. He must have shifted back during the night, which is probably for the best right now, but there's dirt in his mouth, and a jagged rock digging a bruise into his hip, and he has the edgy, slightly displaced feeling that comes from going to sleep as one thing and waking up as something else.

When he finally opens his eyes, he finds himself staring up at a colourless early-morning sky and the red, somewhat flustered face of Remus' mother.

"Good morning, Mrs Lupin," Sirius offers, as brightly as he can manage, and he tries for his best smile, because her hands have settled at her hips and her foot is starting to tap. She's wearing Muggle house slippers, fuzzy and vivid pink and shaped like huge flowers. "It's lovely to see you."

"Charmed, I'm sure," she replies, pulling her wand. Sirius watches it a little nervously as it twitches next to her thigh. "What are you doing to my hydrangeas, then?"

Sirius blinks. "Your what?"

"My hydrangeas." She points at the bushes with her wand. "If you've uprooted them, I'll -- "

"Oh, no. Nothing like that. I was... um. Just, you know. Sleeping?"

Mrs Lupin arches an eyebrow and folds her arms across her chest. "You don't sound too sure of that."

"No, I am. Or, I was. Sleeping, I mean," Sirius says, straightening up. He's covered in dirt and twigs and leaves from the armpits down, and Mrs Lupin clucks her tongue as he brushes the worst of it away. "I, um. I thought I'd visit Remus, but I got here rather later than I thought I would. I didn't want to wake everyone up, so."

"You sat out here all night?" she asks dubiously. "Under my hydrangeas. In the snow."

Sirius offers her a feeble smile. "The snow wasn't so bad."

"I've never seen such a mess," she mutters, twitching a twig out of his hair. "Just come inside, and we'll get you into a bath."

 

\--

 

The Lupin's tub is an ancient copper contraption that stands in the centre of the room on four ugly legs shaped like Hippogriff talons, and it's just large enough that the water comes up to Sirius' neck, steam tickling his nose and soap bubbles popping on his chin. A strong Heating Charm is keeping the water just this side of too hot; it feels perfect after a long night spent sleeping in the snow, and Sirius decides he's never moving again right as the door bangs open. He sees a flash of sandy hair in the hallway, and he jerks so quickly he sends a wave of water sloshing onto the floor.

Remus hangs in the doorway for a moment, a stack of yellow and white chequered towels tucked under his arm, and Sirius folds his legs up a little, trying to sink deeper into the water. He's always been a shameless exhibitionist, but he feels oddly open and exposed like this; the room seems to have shrunk, and Remus is just staring at him, his eyes wide and his pyjamas hanging crookedly off his hips, and Sirius is suddenly aware of his round knees poking out of the water, of the way his wet hair is hanging limply around his face.

"I thought she was having me on at first, my mum," Remus says finally. There's a strange twist to his mouth, like he wants to smile but doesn't think he should. "I mean, it sounded ridiculous, you being here. But then my dad dragged the fancy tub out of the cupboard, and my mum was mucking around with water spells. After all that, you _had_ to be here. Only you could cause that much fuss before breakfast. You or James."

"James is in Majorca," Sirius mumbles, mostly to the water."

Remus nods slowly and walks into the room. "I know. I had an owl from him yesterday."

"Oh?"

"He didn't mention you at all, but I didn't think anything of it." Remus drops the towels on a relatively dry patch of floor and sits on the tiny, precarious stool next to the tub. It takes him a moment to get settled in; he's taller than he was just two weeks ago, and he moves like his arms and legs are longer than he remembers them being, like they won't quite bend the right way. "I figured you'd found some Muggle bird to bother and wouldn't be coming up for air until it was time to leave."

"I... um, you know." Sirius sighs, batting his hair out of his face. "I rather didn't fancy going, is all."

"You didn't fancy a trip to the bloody beach." It's not a question, and Remus' tone is very, very flat. "You've been banging on about sand and sunshine and warm weather since the term started."

"I love the beach, and Majorca is brilliant. I just didn't want to go this time," Sirius says quietly. Remus curls his hand around the edge of the tub, and Sirius ducks his elbow away from it, hiding it under the water. "The Potters have done quite a bit for me already. They shouldn't have to take me on their sodding family holiday."

"Prongs wanted you to go, I'm sure."

"Prongs wanted Evans to go."

Remus huffs out a soft laugh. "He's barmy, he is. Evans bloody well hates him."

"Yeah, well. I know that, and you know that. Even Peter knows that." Sirius stretches his legs a little, frowning at his wrinkled toes as they peek up through the water. "He wrote her some soppy love letter as soon as we got in from the train station. She sent it back the next morning with a hex on it."

"Spots or boils?"

"None of that rot. His ruddy hair went pink and purple. In stripes, like. I don't know how she did it, really. We needed his dad to sort him out."

"Serves him right, sending her owls at all hours," Remus observes mildly, shaking his head. He trails his fingers in the water, too close to Sirius' arm and yet not close enough. "I've always said you two don't give her enough credit."

Sirius waves that off with a snort. "Oh, she's clever, all right. I've never said she's not. It's just that she's mad. Positively shrieking." Sirius yawns and rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands. "They're staying at a Muggle place, this time. The Potters, I mean. In Majorca. James thinks if he learns a little about Muggles, Evans will hate him less."

"Evans hates him because he's an arse."

"Of course she does," Sirius agrees. "No point telling him that, though." Remus' hand slides down Sirius' arm, pausing at Sirius' wrist, and his thumb presses into Sirius' skin. "That's, you know, why I decided to stay behind. Muggle places cost money, and I haven't got any."

"Sirius."

"Well, I don't, and I didn't want the Potters to spend any more on me than they already have. I told Mrs Potter I was going to visit my uncle for Christmas."

Remus sighs under his breath. "Did you?"

"Yeah, I did. Spent three days there," Sirius explains. "Alphard likes me well enough, but he also likes his solitude. After that, he gave me two Galleons and told me to bugger off until Easter. I stayed at the Cauldron until that ran out. I used the last of it for the bus ride up here."

"Why?"

"I don't really know, do I? I just did."

Remus leans in a little, his elbows braced on the edge of the tub and his fingers still curled around Sirius' wrist. "You just did."

"All right, all right. I missed you, I guess," Sirius says quietly. "I haven't seen you in a bloody week."

Remus smiles, his cheeks flushing pink. Sirius looks at the freckles dusting the bridge of his nose, at the soft curve of his lower lip, at the slight gap between his front teeth, and then Sirius kisses him, because he's tired of waiting, doesn't really know what he was waiting for in the first place.

It's light and hesitant and over far too quickly, and Remus darts a nervous glance at the door as soon as he pulls away, but Sirius catches his hand in the collar of Remus' shirt and tugs him back down.

"Get in here with me," Sirius whispers, dragging his mouth over Remus' jaw. "The water is perfect."

"And you say Evans is mad."

Sirius dismisses that with a quick kiss. "Go get your bathers, if you're worried about your mum. We'll tell her we're having a day at the beach."

"Padfoot."

"She already thinks I'm daft for sleeping in her garden," Sirius says, his hand sliding up to Remus' neck. "You can just tell her you're humouring me."

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Unexpected Visits in the Wintertime [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/580051) by [adistantsun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adistantsun/pseuds/adistantsun)




End file.
